Blood Mercy (Blood Grace Book 1)

by Vela Roth

  But not until he was sure there was no chance Cassia would join him. As resourceful as she was, he deemed it unlikely an obstacle had prevented her from meeting with him these past three nights. She was avoiding him. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to go back just yet. She felt closer to him tonight, somehow.

  He stood up and paced around the fountain. So restless, always, ever since he’d come here. Well, that was not necessarily a bad sign. This cagey feeling from improper nourishment was maddening, but he had yet to feel the lethargy and listlessness that signaled true deprivation. He just wished any amount of running would work off the tension that hounded him.

  If Cassia did not seek him out tonight, he must face the fact she had no intention of doing so again. What then? Their conversations might have accomplished so much. Was he really willing to let Amachos’s interruption bring that to a premature end?

  No, Cassia’s interest in Lio’s people was too rare. She was too rare. Too important.

  He must find a way to come in contact with her again, as he had at the king’s feast, and persuade her it was safe to continue their midnight discussions.

  Just then the vague sense of her closeness became the distant sound of fabric brushing against leaves and a hint of her scent on the wind.

  It had not been all in his thoughts. She was closer indeed—on the grounds tonight. And headed for him.

  She hadn’t let the mage frighten her away. He’d been sure Cassia was the kind of person who let nothing stand in her way once she judged a goal worthy of pursuit. What he had not been certain of was whether he passed that test. But apparently she had decided he did, at least for one more night. Now was his chance to make his case for why they should remain in contact.

  It was a good thing she was still some distance away. That gave him time to collect himself. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. Goddess have Mercy on him. After a lifetime of Hesperine teachings and training in self-discipline, a few nights of deer were all it took for his fangs to betray him at the first suggestion of a desirable human. His teeth didn’t seem to understand what was so clear to the rest of him: the line between noticing and wanting.

  That line had never been a problem for him before. His long fidelity to Xandra had acquainted him with it well, and he had never crossed it. Orthros was a land full of females worthy of notice, and notice he did, while wanting only one. But none of those noticeable females had affected him the way Cassia did.

  Hespera’s Grace. He had never wanted Xandra like this.

  Lio felt of his fangs as if he had just grown them for the first time. He hadn’t even touched Cassia. Hadn’t stood closer to her than the space it took to keep him out of her liegehound’s reach. Yet he wanted her in a way he had never wanted anyone, not even the Hesperine he had once planned to avow. He had never felt such a confluence of thirst and desire as he felt here, now, for this human who was so far beyond his reach she might as well dwell on the sun.

  What had come over him?

  Conversing with Cassia was enough of a breach of conduct, but one he had good reason to commit. He could never justify anything beyond talking with her. And even if he could, in spite of politics, it wouldn’t matter.

  Cassia had gazed upon him as he had upon her. That was all. She had never given him leave to want her, and she never would. Not circumspect Cassia. What would she think, if she had any idea where his thoughts wandered when she was near?

  He had meant that to be a sobering thought. Imagining her censure ought to be enough to ruin the most voracious appetite.

  So why could he only think of how she had touched her hand to her throat? Of the boldness he had seen in her eyes as she asked him about his ways with curiosity…almost fascination…

  When she finally emerged from between the trees with her bodyguard at her side, her presence was what proved enough to silence Lio’s inner wrestling with himself. She was so astonishing to his senses, from the sound of her heartbeat to her scent to the taste of that scent at the edge of his palate. He resolved to do as every Hesperine was inclined to when confronted with a great delight the Goddess had placed in the world—simply be glad.

  “Lady Cassia. It is good to see you again.” He offered her a bow.

  If she noticed it was deeper than usual, she gave no indication. “Good evening.”

  By moonlight she looked like the woman she was instead of a battered doll set up as a decoration in her father’s court. She carried herself with resolve, rather than wariness. That alone reassured Lio a great deal.

  “I was concerned for you these past three nights,” he confessed.

  “We both had reason to be concerned.”

  “I’m grateful for the opportunity to tell you how sorry I am about what happened last time. You needn’t worry, I assure you. Amachos left thinking only that a young Hesperine was too thirsty to last through the dancing.”

  “His presence here was proof enough for me that it was necessary to withdraw.”

  “Withdraw?” Lio gave her a rueful smile. “You make it sound like a battlefield.”

  “Is it not, my champion?”

  “I feel the need to remind you I am a champion who regards weapons as a last resort.”

  “I would advise you to keep your sword close at hand, just in case.”

  “Do you, my lady, pass a single hour that is not one long series of risk assessments?”

  “If I were a farmer, I would weigh my risks according to weevils, storms and blight. Being what I am, I weigh them according to how close the royal mage comes to seeing me talk to you.” She eyed him. “And, despite his charmed existence, I suspect a Hesperine weighs his risks just as carefully.”

  But oh, what different scales he had than she. “Then what inspired you to risk this again? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Lio caught a whiff of fear. Much too fresh and powerful to be the remains of what Cassia had felt at the prince’s celebration.

  Her gaze deserted him, seeking refuge in Knight’s direction. “I spoke with the king today. He has not found out.”

  Did the king always have this effect on her? Always the king, Lio noticed. Never my father.

  Lio put as much certainty and reassurance as he could into his words. “Of course he didn’t find out. We’ve been very careful.”

  She didn’t answer, and the fear heated into something even more powerful, while her hand moved smoothly over Knight’s back. Did she even realize how angry she was?

  What had her father done to her to fill her with such fury?

  Lio hated to imagine what cause Cassia had to harbor rage so powerful against her father. Stories he’d heard and tried to forget now came to mind, tales of what Tenebrans did to one another…what some fathers did to their daughters. The mere thought that anyone, that Cassia, would be forced to endure such a thing was sickening.

  “Do you spend much time with the king?” Lio asked carefully.

  “No.”

  Lio dreaded following his thoughts where they led, but he had to know. “You don’t see him often?”

  “Not particularly.” Cassia fiddled with Knight’s ear, which the dog endured with a broad grin. “The court and I are only occasionally at the same palace. For example, this year the king had me winter at Namenti and then visited there briefly. Since he brought me with him to Solorum, I have seen more of him than usual.”

  A surprisingly detailed answer, but delivered in a tone so neutral, an inquisitor would be hard pressed to make anything of it. A great deal of information that told Lio very little. What diplomatic skills Cassia had developed in her young mortal life. It filled him with admiration, but equal grief, because it had not been a pleasure for her, as it had for him—for her, it was a necessary means of survival.

  Lio found some reassurance in the knowledge that the king seldom forced her to be near him. If Lucis had perverse intentions toward his daughter, he most likely would not keep her at a distance.

  “Do you enjoy being at court for a change?” Lio as
ked, as if inquiring how she liked the weather.

  “Solorum is where I wished to be at this time.”

  Again, an answer that was not an answer. But one that told him perhaps a great deal more.

  She dreaded being near her father, and yet she wanted to be here at Solorum. What could be so important to her that it was worth putting herself through this?

  Were her encounters with Lio a collateral convenience or an integral reason for her actions?

  Peace Offering

  “For my part, Lady Cassia, I’m delighted you are here at Solorum, and I’m sure our own discussions will prove much more fruitful than the debacle at the negotiation table tonight.” Lio waited for her to ask, but she said nothing about what had happened at the Summit.

  Surely Cassia had heard that right in the middle of Uncle Argyros’s most pivotal address, Lord Severinus had called forward a witness against the embassy. The mage from Severitas had filled the embassy’s entire speaking time with overwrought tales of Hesperine atrocities, and the Council had lapped up his gory lies. The display had been so excruciating, Lio was sure gossip about it had escaped the secrecy of the ward around the pavilion to take the court by storm. But Cassia showed no signs of awareness or interest regarding the event.

  So Lio proceeded to reach into one of the deep pockets of his robe and draw out what he had brought for her each night, just in case. Not such a foolish notion after all. “Every beneficial and promising agreement warrants an exchange of gifts, don’t you think? Here is a token of good faith.”

  She stared at the round, paper-wrapped package on his palm as if she’d never seen a bar of soap before.

  “I’ve noticed you prefer soap to scent oils,” he felt the need to explain.

  Still she looked at his gift with furrowed brows. “It’s…very fine.”

  “The finest from Orthros. The embassy brought a crate and presented them at the Summit, among other gifts that promote good health. I took the liberty of reserving one for you.” He shifted on his feet. He was not making a romantic gesture, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel so unsure standing here before her with his offering in his hand. “The soap does have a fragrance, but I believe you’ll like it.”

  “I thank you.” She held out her open hand to Lio while she cast her gaze toward the ground, dipping her lashes with every appearance of humility. The gesture did not befit her any more than her affected laugh. She was clearly accustomed to receiving gifts on her best behavior, probably from men who thought they could buy and own her.

  Lio glanced at her hound. “Do you suppose Sir Knight will allow me to hand this to you?”

  Now a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps if you allow him to sniff it first.”

  “And present him with an opportunity to take off my hand?”

  Cassia clucked at Knight and said a word to him. He looked up at her, eyes wide. Woman and dog gazed at each other, communicating through what must be their own sort of Union.

  “Ckuundat, all is well.” How could her voice sound tender and commanding at the same time? “Hama.”

  Knight backed into a position right at her side. The hound no longer stood between them, but if Lio came much nearer Cassia, he would be within easy reach of the beast’s jaws.

  With his eyes on the dog, Lio took one step closer. Knight peeled his lip back. Lio waited. The hound stood still, glaring at him.

  Slowly, carefully, Lio reached out and placed the soap in Cassia’s hand.

  They both watched Knight. He watched them.

  “I think he has given you leave to proceed, so long as you do not push your luck.”

  Lio angled a slight bow in Knight’s direction. “I will not forget I am on his sufferance.”

  He let the soap rest in Cassia’s hand for a moment, his hand still on the soap. A connection between them, one he allowed the Blood Union to embellish for his senses. Her deep sense of hesitation told him she had no intention whatsoever of using such an intimate gift.

  She took the soap and withdrew her hand all too soon. But she did lift the bar to her nose. Lio listened to her take a breath and watched the groove at the base of her throat deepen. She hesitated. Then she took a deeper breath.

  “It is very fine,” she said again.

  “The oldest soap known to civilization and still one of the best. You will never guess what it is made of.”

  “No, I shall not, for I have not smelled anything like it before.”

  He smiled at her. “Cassia oil.”

  She took the soap away from her nose. “Cassia is an oil?”

  “Not at all. It is a tree.”

  Slightly, but visibly, she relaxed. “I have never heard of a cassia tree.”

  “What is your namesake, then?”

  “Cassius,” she supplied, “a past king’s bastard son. All I know about him is that he was notoriously vain, and his name became tradition.”

  Lio tried not to grimace. “Cassia is an ancient and exquisite tree, whose fragrant bark supplies the world with soaps, delicacies and medicine.”

  Cassia drew back, gazing down at her new soap. She cradled the bar in both hands as if the design of yellow flowers on the wrapper were as fragile as real blossoms. “I am sorry. I have brought you nothing.”

  “Isn’t it more appropriate for a guest to offer his hostess a gift to thank her for her generosity?”

  Somewhere behind him, the underbrush rustled, preempting whatever comment she might have made. Her gaze shot toward the sound.

  “A badger,” Lio reassured her without looking that way. “She’s dragging fresh nesting materials into her den to keep her two cubs clean and warm.”

  Now Cassia was looking at him. “How can you tell?”

  “It seems we’ve finally returned to your questions about Hesperine life, and I’ll have a chance to answer them properly. Shall we walk and talk?”

  She gave him one of her level gazes that meant she was thinking. Debating, probably, what was safer: to sit by the familiar, neutral fountain, near where the mage had appeared the other night, or to wander the wild unknown of the grounds and present a moving target.

  Lio would do whatever he must to reassure her it was safe to stay here awhile, with him. “You need not fear someone will find us. My senses would give us plenty of warning. As you have seen, I have the power to conceal us both, if you will be so kind as to stay near me.”

  She stood there for one awkward moment, turning slightly toward the center of the clearing. “Very well.”

  Lio extended an arm and started walking, so she might fall into step beside him. Knight imposed his bulk between them, and Lio found it necessary to put more distance between himself and Cassia than he had anticipated. They wandered past the fountain and into the trees on the other side.

  “You grow cassia trees in Orthros?” she asked.

  “Alas, it is too cold. We import the oils and spices made from the tree.” Lio resisted the urge to tell her cassia tasted even better than it smelled.

  “Import?” She blinked at him. “No one trades with Orthros.”

  “Tenebra and Cordium do not. In any case, cassia does not grow here. The tree must have a kinder clime in which to thrive.” He studied her chapped hands that held the soap so gingerly. “The Empire is such a place. The Empress herself cultivates prize groves of cassia. Her gardeners have tended the same trees for thousands of years.”

  “You mean the Empire across the sea, which the Orders claim they once reached in bespelled ships? I thought all that was a tale they spun to impress foolish folk. They expect us to believe the cities are made of sunlight and the people’s skin is burnt dark.”

  “The Empire is as real as the soap in your hands. It is a complex area of the world that comprises countless lands and peoples, each with their own language and traditions. Together, they have built cities out of the light of educated minds, effective governance and a prosperous economy. There are people in the Empire of every color, for the same reaso
n that here, some people have blue eyes and others have freckles.”

  She fingered the soap. “You must have actually met people from there.”

  “So have you. Master Healer Javed and Master Envoys Basir and Kumeta.”

  Her face lit up. “Now I understand.”

  “Many Hesperines begin their lives as mortals in the Empire,” Lio explained. “‘Orthros has two hearts,’ in the words of Prometheus, one of Orthros’s greatest heroes, who was of Imperial origin. Our kind came to be in Tenebra, but the Empire is no less our motherland. The Empress and my Queens keep our alliance strong.”

  “Favorable relations between humans and Hesperines,” Cassia marveled with an expression of mock surprise. “The mages here would get their robes in a mighty twist if they knew.”

  “Guests from the Empire are a permanent community in Orthros. They visit for trade, education or leisure and stay for months or years at a time.”

  “Humans living among Hesperines? Imagine that.” Astonishment escaped Cassia’s reserve, but no aversion.

  “Our human guests may choose to provide for us with their blood. We honor their generosity with our hospitality, goods, knowledge and all that Orthros has to offer. Often, our guests decide to stay.”

  “Forever?”

  “It’s the pie. We have the most delicious meatless mincemeat in the known world. Oh, and immortality is rather nice, too.”

  Her half grin seemed far more genuine than her laughter. “With so many people from the Empire happy to give you their blood or become Hesperines, you’ve no need to kidnap folk from Tenebra to feed on and force convert, do you?”

  “Ah, the powerful magic of common sense.”

  “That’s certainly not the kind of magic the Orders teach.”

  Lio guided them onto a deer trail he was wont to follow. Cassia accompanied him deeper into the woods without a glance backward.